


We Came Here For Love

by TheEffinMitchell



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Originally Posted on Tumblr, the bechloe kiss we never got
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEffinMitchell/pseuds/TheEffinMitchell
Summary: Maybe Universal isn't on her side, but at least the universe is.Or, the Bechloe kiss we never got.





	We Came Here For Love

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on tumblr earlier, but thought I'd share it here as well. All we know (apparently) is that Beca initiated the kiss and that it took place at the end. Others have already thrown out their ideas on how it took place, and I decided to toss my own rendition of it in as well. Because if we can't have canon, at least we'll always have fanfiction. 
> 
> Title based on the song by Sigala.

There are few things in the world more frightening than the future stretching out ahead of you, unknowable and unseen. There’s nothing more terrifying, and yet nothing more inevitable. But often times, the most fearsome future is the one you _do_ know – the fate you see coming and can’t escape.

We’re all set on a path, confined to one reality, and the longer we traverse the path that life has laid out before us, the lesser the possibilities for our future become. Once infinite, they dwindle in number; through every choice we make, through every foot forward and through every step back, the possibilities for our future condense and decrease until we’re left with only one possible outcome – two if we’re lucky, three if you’re willing to bargain.

Fortunately, there are a few moments in life – rare and far in between – when the universe chooses to play on your side, when you catch a brief glimpse of that terrible, fated destiny and are given the opportunity to change it. It’s the universe’s way of throwing you a bone, its way of asking, _“are you sure you can live with this? This is permanent, just so you know.”_ But what could possibly be strong enough – powerful, potent, and persuasive enough – to change the course of your own history?

A force of nature?

An act of love?

(Maybe they’re the same thing, and we’re all just too blind to see it.)

All Beca knows is that she stands on the precipice of some great unknown, hovering between ‘what could be’ and ‘what will be’ as she watches Chloe march off stage, heart roaring in her ears like the approaching tide. There’s a tug at her chest, clawing sharply at the fragile vessel of her heart, gnawing away at her until she has no other option but to move. Everyone else is gone, the Bellas ushered off stage for the start of the concert, and the stadium chants “Khaled! Khaled!” but her heart beats “Chloe” and it’s louder than any other voice in the room.

With a lingering wave to the crowd, Beca rushes to escape the limelight, platform boots thudding against the concrete floor as she shoves past a group of techs. Emily stands tall in the near distance, her lanky giraffe body towering over the other Bellas, indicating the group’s location in the congested backstage, and she hurries to catch up with them as they chatter excitedly about the performance.

“Chloe,” she breathes, barreling into Flo, “Where’s Chloe?”

“That way,” Amy nods, jerking her head towards one of the exit tunnels. “She and soldier boy were sending each other some serious heart eyes while Ginger was on stage. Wouldn’t be too surprised if they were making use of all the dark corners and shadows around here, you know what I mean?”

“Unfortunately,” she grumbles, pointedly ignoring the crude wink Amy adds for special effect. Dodging questions and Aubrey’s scrutinizing gaze, Beca cranes her neck, standing as tall as her 5’2 frame will allow. A flash of red catches the corner of her peripheral, and she watches just in time as Chloe slips into an unmarked corridor, disappearing from the appointed production space with little notice.

“Better move quickly,” Aubrey commands, and it takes Beca a second to understand, but the blonde has always been more perceptive than she’s willing to give credit for. She offers a tentative smile at the older woman’s silent blessing, hesitant but grateful to have her support.

Straightening her jacket, Beca darts after the retreating redhead, urging her legs to hasten and cursing the short, restrictive skirt she’d been manhandled into wearing that evening. She hurries down the unfamiliar hallway, always close behind but never close enough, following the tips of her hair as they flash around corners. She could just as easily call out, shout Chloe’s name and ask her to stop, but something lodges deep in her throat, paralyzing her vocal chords and choking her words.

So she keeps walking, and for the first time in her life, Beca find herself running _towards_ something rather than away from it. It’s a strange sensation nonetheless, but she supposes it fits her narrative, makes sense that it’s Chloe she’s running to. Because Chloe was never a rest stop or a place to pull over, had never been a tourist attraction for her to temporarily fawn over and then move on.

Chloe was the final destination, the long road home, and no matter where life was taking her now, Beca is certain of which direction it will always lead.

Up ahead, Chloe’s gait slows and her strides shorten, giving Beca ample opportunity to finally catch up. She's three steps away when Chloe takes a sharp turn right, spinning on the heel of her shoes. She's two steps away when she notices _him_ , catching sight of Chicago through the gaps between support columns. And she's only one step behind when Chloe jerks around the corner and throws herself into his waiting arms, yanking him by the tie into a heated kiss.

Beca screeches to a halt, feet glued to the floor. Her chest tightens at the sight, the earlier claws now a vice-like grip around her stuttering heart, constricting the organ until it barely beats. She feels everything and nothing all at once, like the world is still turning but her own world has stopped. And it hits her like a hurricane, knocking into her with all the force of gale winds, that after all these years she’s finally lost her chance…

But just as suddenly as she comes to this conclusion, Beca finds herself back on stage, blinking through the lights in her eyes and the deafening roar of the crowd. It takes a moment for her to reoriantate herself, standing awkward and alone as the rest of the Bellas depart, but she spots Chicago stand up from the front row and realizes it’s happening all over again. She nearly suffers whiplash with how quickly she turns her head, searching for Chloe in the sea of others, barely stopping to thank the audience before dumping her mic with a sound tech and running off to the back.

“Chloe,” she demands, crashing against Flo as she catches up to her friends, “Where’s Chloe?”

“That way,” says Amy, nodding her head towards an exit, “She and soldier boy were sending each other some serious heart eyes while Ginger was on stage. Wouldn’t be too surprised if they were making use of all the dark corners and shadows around here, you know what I mean?”

“Unfortunately,” she breathes, already moving on from the group.

“Better move quickly,” Aubrey warns, and it really is deja vu and a premonition all rolled into one as Beca races down the dark corridor, silently scorning Theo and his stylist team for dressing her in such constricting clothes. She moves on instinct, letting her not-quite-a-memory lead her through the maze of halls and pathways, chasing Chloe though she’s still too far ahead. She skids around a corner, breath catching in her throat as she finally spots the other woman just a few yards ahead, and with renewed vigor rushes to intercept.

She’s three steps away as Chloe begins to turn…

Two steps away when she sees Chicago, hands folded patiently behind his back…

One step away as Chloe starts to move towards him…

…

And then there’s no space between them at all, Beca lunging at the last possible second to capture Chloe by the wrist and tug her back behind the cover of a pillar. The redhead’s eyes are wide with confusion, lips parted in surprise, and even now, Beca still can’t find the right words to say. So she acts instead, a hushed, “Please don’t freak out,” passed between them as Beca reaches up and cups her cheeks, cradling her face between her trembling hands.

Slowly, deliberately, she presses her lips to Chloe’s. It’s soft, and gentle, and chaste, and there are no fireworks or sparks to commemorate, but it’s better than she could have ever hoped, more amazing than she’d ever imagined. It’s warmth and comfort, and it’s home, spreading through every inch of her short stature – every nook and cranny her body will allow.

Reluctantly, she pulls back, suddenly sheepish as the realization of her actions finally catch up to her. “Sorry,” she breathes, eyes lowering towards the floor, “I just… it’s something I should have done a long time ago, and I get that you don’t feel the same but–”

This time, it’s Chloe that surges forward, kissing Beca with far more fervancy than she’d been given. Beca barely contains the squeak of surprise that threatens to escape her, muffled against the other woman’s mouth as their lips press together at the seams, parting and coming together – again, again, again. She barely has time to reciprocate before Chloe ceases her affections, pulling back with a final, resounding smack of the lips, a twinkle of mirth in her eyes as she releases a long awaited sigh of relief.

“It's about damn time, Mitchell.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and reviews are appreciated.  
> Find me on tumbrl: the-effin-mitchell


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